Hallelujah
by PhaerynTao
Summary: Unconventional love for two very unconventional people. Based on Defectivebrainstorm's 'Gargoyles'. AngelxWasp


Characters Angel and Wasp belong to Defectivebrainstorm (exquisite writer of _Gargoyles_), while the lyrics go to Leonard Cohen. Fanfiction of Fanfiction. Songfic done right. Commense.

~o~

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof. _

Never setting foot in a church, Angel had never gotten the chance to listen to those amazing choirs he always heard so much about. As his fingerprints stroked her skin lovingly, faithfully, he was dangerously sure that he would never have to as long as her breath would keep smelling like sweet forest air. It never failed to astound him how uncouth Wasp was, how she was the personification of freedom. How after every grueling thing that her life had barraged her with, she still closed her eyes, bit her glittering lip ring in excruciation, and let the light in. Let him touch her, after all she said about her heart truly belonging to only one other person. He didn't know for sure if she had let him inside completely, into that secret place of hers where no one dared to go and even more she hardly let anyone witness the darkness there, but as she writhed against him whilst her heat fed his fire, there was only hope. Everything was jagged and awkward, but it still unfolded that dreary rainy afternoon like a silk dream, perfect, imperfect.

When he was gentle, she asked for more brutality, but he never went past using his nails against the rare smoothness of her neck. It wasn't that he didn't want to please her or give her what she asked for, but he couldn't help but think that perhaps she had an unconscious need to rival the abominations done to her body with a little bit of abuse of her own, all the while attaching something wonderful to it. Angel couldn't say for sure. And he could proudly say that with Wasp, he probably would never be able to. But if his conjecture was correct, he couldn't go along with such strange tactics to ease her pain she always seemed to wordlessly claim she had moved on from. And so he kissed her when she bit him, and when she growled he sighed, and when she shoved him down and climbed on top of him, dominating him, he did nothing but ascend his fingers tenderly across the long muscular plane of her back. And strangely enough, it was better when she was on top, because it allowed her to be the governing force, something Angel had always been adamant about keeping for himself under and iron padlock. However, below her and basking in the shadow of her animalistic rapture, his view once scathing on weakness and vulnerability was somehow skewed into something lovely.

Sometimes Angel was sure she had forgotten about him, amidst her ecstasy blinding her dual colored irises filled with decadent lightning.

It wasn't frightening to be perceivably fallible with her. In fact, there was a strange nearly foreign sense of comfort in such a realization. He would never speak a word of it, not because of his vow of masculinity he had taken in front of the others, but because between the two of them, any kind of speech outside the throes of unintelligible devotion wasn't needed.

He never learned how to read her mind, not that he wanted to...

But there were the little things. A dipped chin, a softened glance, the back-and-forth swell of her cheeks as she chewed her tongue out of tedium, how she always stood on the tips of feet to reach things even though she was already considerably tall enough to reach them. Angel practiced his own strength by glaring at her unflinchingly as she ran her claws deep down the rippled shadows of his caramel biceps, fiery red highways that sometimes broke the skin. He would watch with a muted fascination while she ran her tongue along the wounds she birthed, glancing at him with that hideously alluring mischief that had running counts for both barbarism and seduction.

_You saw her bathing on the roof. _

The labels stuck to them in the eyes of society burned to ashes as an ode to their unorthodox coupling, two mavericks on the edge of a restrictive culture finding exaltation in their own screwed up lives now stitched together in a special sort of mangled art. It may have been flawed, it may have been looked down upon, but within each other they found something the other needed, and they dug deeply within one another to find it.

Angel had found it, relished it, rewarded her for being the weirdly precious creature she was.

She was close, so utterly close he could taste in the air and knew undoubtedly she could too. Almost every time the precipice was near, she became oddly solemn as her body twisted upon him, wracked with spasms that she thankfully did nothing to oppress. The Faerie's savage growls became pinched gasps as she tried to staunch the inevitable, and Angel held on tightly to the tautness of her sinewy body hoping that just for a moment her androgynous facade would make way for the feminine damsel she never thought she wanted to be. Because in all honesty, it gave him a depraved breed of satisfaction to see her spiral out of control with him, not just behind the veil of her own natural insanity. Wasp laid her tired head of spun steel wool akin to that of Medusa's snakes on his shoulder, rumbles from the depths of a tiger's belly falling from her chapped lips in completion.

Their chivalry for each other was a twisted onslaught of lambs for lions, hearts one, won, and founded on the place in one's soul where scorned lovers go to share and revel in their divine madness.

An insane world for insane people.

Their rose still bloomed.

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah._


End file.
